Acceptance
by Braco Boy
Summary: Braig only knew how to keep it hidden within him, because there was something wrong with him in the end. He could never he healed, never be fixed, never be seen as anything aside from Twisted. Mostly XigDem Rated for subject and content


And here we have the idea that started it all. _Twisted_ would have never been born if it were not for this stupid drabble. I wondered what to do with it after I started to go and do the actual story, but after some thought, I figured why not and post it up here just for the sake of having it. Because I wasn't taking this one hundred percent seriously, you can expect a very OOC moment to pop up (at least it is to me). Now, this was originally called _Twisted_, but I renamed it. Tell me if you think it's good-if not, offers are well accepted.

I think we can all agree that if I did own this game, it would be a hell lot better than what it turned out to be.

* * *

Acceptance

-Twisted Origins-

Braig wasn't all too sure when and where to put the blame. He looked far back into the recess of his mind, trying desperately to put he pieces together and figure out where it had started out. There was a cause for every effect, and he anted nothing more than to find his cause. Why was he so messed up? There was a reason for everything, he had to find his.

But his search would always come up fruitless as he never found anything that could be put to blame. He had lived a normal life, or whatever could be close to normal. He was cared for, give love and attention, and he grew up happy and healthy too. Nothing stood out as odd or strange, or at least out of what could be deemed acceptable.

He had never like girls, not even as he hit puberty, but he could live with that, and so could many of those residents of Radiant Garden. True, homosexuality was something out of the norm, but it was still acceptable in the eyes of many. He could love another male, and he could grow up living what could still be deemed…normal. True, there would be hardships along the way, but life was a challenge to begin with. And if anything, he was sure to be able to surpass these hardships. Everyone saw a winner in young Braig…and they figured whatever would come of him would be nothing but great things. He was a smart boy, a boy full of potential. Whatever problems he had, he was sure to fix them up or use them to an advantage.

But that wasn't the problem. No, it was only part of the problem, the tip of the iceberg if anything.

He grew up, and he never felt anything for the members of the opposite sex. But…he didn't feel anything for those who did share the same sex as his. At least, not till he realized what he was attracted to.

Walking down the colorful streets, his eyes on nothing in particular, that is until he saw it. The young and innocent. His heart could love, and it could feel warm and weak and ache as well…but what it ached for was something that was not deemed acceptable in the eyes of those around him. It was sinful, disgusting, and it was wrong. He felt shame as soon as he realized this and he ran from it, telling himself over and over again that he could never let these sick feelings inside him blossom, lest anyone find out.

He never told anyone.

He never let on his huge flaw, and as far as everyone knew-he was in fact perfectly hetero. He was the perfect boy, the perfect student, and eventually; he became a perfect apprentice.

Life seemed to simply go on, and Braig learned as time went how to pass off as normal. He slept with others, knowing quite well if he didn't suspicions would obviously be raised. He never felt anything for them, and what little he did rarely feel only made him feel sick and hollow inside. What his mind and body wanted was something far from his grasp, and he knew better than to reach out for it. He played his good boy role, and he often brought women to his quarters, and once it was over he did himself the favor of quickly forgetting about them.

Ienzo was a problem. Looking at his lovely blue eyes, his rare smiles, and listening to his soft voice only made Braig hate himself even more. He found himself distancing himself from the boy, only to grow jealous of Even and his Master. He found himself fearing the worst as he saw Even and Ienzo walking together, or Master Ansem and Ienzo talking about all sorts of things. He hated being jealous, and sometimes he did wish he could have just a little attention from the boy. Sexual desire wasn't everything…he could manage from emotional. But in the end, he would never be truly satisfied.

Braig grew up some more, his ignorance only growing along with it. He was the quirky young apprentice who did as he pleased, though he still managed to remain on Ansem's good side somehow. He did his duties, and he earned himself a pretty arrow gun in the meantime. He showed off, learning to get his fix from mainly attention rather than anything physical. He stopped taking girls home. He buried himself deep inside a nice little lie, and whenever he saw his Master with the boy; he told himself the anger he felt was for other things…

…and after awhile he believed it, and he felt as if everything he had felt before was nothing more than a strange dream. He had cured himself. He could finally accept who he was as a human-normality and all.

And thing were good.

But good things never last. And his reality check soon came crashing in, and in the form of a key.

He looked nothing like Ienzo. He was older too, and it came to such a surprise that he found him to be attractive. And the feelings that he thought he had killed were alive and well, springing up from the darkness that he had buried them in. And with this harsh reality did other things come as well.

He lost things…his face damaged. He lost his eye, and his faced was badly scarred. A suitable punishment in the eyes of the deity that looked down upon him.

Was it because he looked at them with lust? Didn't he do such a good job holding the feelings within him? Why was he punished for his actions? What actions, he did nothing wrong…

But with loss came gain.

He gained darkness.

It seemed ironic that he would gain the ability to defy gravity. To defy something that was so powerful, to break the rules of Mother Nature itself-it was like a sign. A wonderful foreshadow of what may come for him.

…

…

But it never did.

He never did the thing he always wanted to do. Because in the end, he still feared to be different. Even after gaining such power, he still feared to be among the outcasts. He could never tell anyone, and he could never take any action. Even after the keyblade left his life, he still remained in the harsh reality.

He couldn't be cured. What would be the point in trying to fix him if he only would end up in a relapse? He could only put on a smile and brood alongside with Xehanort and the others, and he could only watch Ienzo from afar, and he could only dream about that boy with the key…and he could only learn to accept the fact that he would never be truly accepted.

Time went on.

Ienzo grew up. And he grew cold.

Hearts became the topic of focus.

Ansem asked him if there was anything wrong. He then added that if there was a problem, he could tell him-he would listen.

He learned to keep his emotions to himself.

He, Dilan, Even, and the others began to dabble in no mans land.

He though about what Ansem said…and wondered if maybe he should talk?

He lost his heart.

His life was at an end.

And he never had to worry about acceptance again.

* * *

Xigbar smiled tiredly at the young nobody that lay next to him on the messy bed. He let his hand go through the strange hairdo, his fingers trailing through the messy haircut as he moved in for another kiss. Demyx was only too eager to let him in and let him taste his wet, warm mouth.

It was a strange thing, knowing your other's memories. They often got in the way of things, but they are, in the end, the foundation of every nobody.

Xigbar was no different.

True, he was a bit disturbed when he looked for certain memories; love and hope and dreams all being conflicted with what could be considered very inappropriate. Most of these memories were nothing more than dreams and fantasies, things that only Braig could come up with since he never allowed himself to commit to the act in question.

Not that Xigbar cared.

He wasn't afraid to take action, and he wasn't afraid of the consequences that lay ahead of him. Unlike Braig, there was no fear inside of him. There were only memories of fear. And what good do those kinds of memories serve when you live in a world of darkness? When you live in a world that had no right to exist in the first place? When you live to begin with, and yet did not deserve to?

He wasn't afraid.

Demyx was a strange sort of thing. He was older than most of those Braig often fell in love with. But it didn't stop Xigbar from making the attempt to get closer to the boy, and as far as he was concerned; "no" was just another way of saying "yes".

But what a surprise when Demyx was the one to approach him. What a surprise it was when Demyx told Xigbar that he made him feel. What a surprise it was when Xigbar felt something right after that, right after being told that he made another feel.

He felt weak.

And soon, he felt other things as well.

Demyx had a way for breaking things apart. True, Xigbar never felt fear himself; but he could feel Braig's slowly crumbling away as Demyx worked his way through him. He felt the fear break away into smaller pieces, and soon went others. Doubt, loneliness, and other negative feelings soon disappeared from his empty soul. Demyx rewrote what it meant to feel and want, and his original intentions soon change from that of sinister to that of something else.

He could feel Braig's blood rush through him, his cheeks flushing when Demyx smiled. He felt Braig's lost heart beat fast from afar as Demyx showed him how a sitar worked, and tried his best to teach him the basic rifts and scales. And somewhere inside of him he was sure Braig was watching this, his confidence slowly rising from the deep depths that they had fallen to.

And Xigbar loved.

He no longer felt the need to simply take the boy and do what he pleased with him. There was no urge to cause pain, no urge to hurry on…

Take his time…

He held on to Demyx, kissed him, and loved him, everything his heartless body desired. He praised the boy, cared for him, and did whatever he could to be seen worthy in his bright blue eyes. He appreciated him, and he felt whole again.

Demyx and Xigbar stared into each others eyes, a subtle smile on each others faces. Demyx placed a hand on Xigbar's scarred face, not finding it disturbing or sickening at all. He actually though it was kind of cool, and thought it added character. And was beauty not in the eye of the beholder?

"I love you Xigbar," he said in a pleasant tone.

Demyx didn't see anything wrong with him. He didn't see this twisted thing that couldn't be fixed. He saw something different, and he accepted it with every fiber of his non-being.

Xigbar smiled.

…

…

…

Braig looked up to nobody, his golden eye laced with tears and remorse. Never in his life was he able to hear such wonderful words, words that made him break down and fall to his knees. He looked down to the floor, a part of him fearing to look up to the young nobody, still afraid and still nervous of some form of rejection. His hand on the floor, his other covering his face, his being trying to hide the shame that he felt in the presence of this creature before him.

He heard the boots move, and he looked up to see nobody on his knees as well, his eyes locked on to his at the very same level.

Eye to eye, face to face.

Braig looked away.

He closed his eye and felt his throat tighten in spite and weakness. Why was he so wrong? Why does everyone have to make rules for what is right and what is not? Why couldn't he have been born normal?

So many questions ran through his mind. He knew there had to be some sort of catch to this, that there must be a reason behind this. Why would this boy fall for Xigbar? There was less to like, what could he see?

But then Braig felt something engulf him.

Arms.

Braig looked back to see the nobody embracing him tightly, his arms around him slender body. He was speechless, only managing to choke out a few sounds as he watched the nobody look him in the eyes with what had to be the most wonderful expression in the world.

"It's ok," he said, his blue eyes reflecting Braig's saddened expression. A gloved hand placed itself on his cheek, wiping away the tears that were falling down his scarred face. The nobody still had the smile on his face, not finding his expression to be the least bit uninviting.

Braig blinked, more tears falling down his face. He tried to pull away, but his body had weakened from the touch, and he found himself incapable of moving away.

Not that he wanted to.

"I love you," the young nobody said, wiping more tears from his face.

"…"

He held on tight to Braig, lifting him up to a standing position with ease. He arms were still wrapped around the older man, and his eyes still locked on to Braig's.

"I love you Xigbar," he said in a whisper.

Braig mouth opened just a little, trying to find something to say to this boy. The nobody placed a finger on Braig's lips, stopping then from saying anything. He leaned in closer to Braig, his soft lips brushing lightly against Braig's ear.

"I love you…," he said in his soothing voice, "…Braig."

Braig's eyes widened just a little. The nobody moved a bit, facing him once more. Without a word said he moved in and closed the gape between him and Braig, kissing him lightly on the lips.

Braig felt tears run freely down his face, but he didn't seem to care anymore. His arms found strength within them, and slowly he lifting them up, embracing the nobody. His eyes closed and he found solace deep within him. His weakened body began to feel less heavy, and his chest felt the heartbeat that had been lost so long ago.

He pulled away and looked to the young nobody that Xigbar had fallen in love with. The nobody that had fallen in love with Xigbar…and had fallen in love with him.

He smiled.

"I love you," he whispered, holding the young nobody tightly in his arms.

He would never let go of him. He would make sure Xigbar would never do the same as well. Something so rare and precious…something so wonderful…

Someone so accepting…

"I love you…," he said once more, this time with much more confidence.

I love you…

…

…

…

"…Demyx," Xigbar said, holding on to the younger nobody as he drifted to a soft slumber.

* * *

Wow, it's amazing how so much can change. Yes, this was, in fact, the grounding for my slightly disturbing story. Why didn't I go with it in the end...well; this seemed to be so final...and I really couldn't add on from here. Plus, I felt a darker tone was needed for something like this. But in the end, _Twisted_ was born from this, so it would be wrong to not give this story a honorable mentioning.


End file.
